Poem: The Devil's Doggerel

by O'Keefe

There one was a self-diagnosed genius
Who went by the name of Barney Jehoshaphat.
His smug assertions often upset the populace,
Least of which because it was crap.

Barney was the type to lecture the electrician
While he was installing his sockets.
And he was also the one to petition
NASA let him build their rockets.

He was the best at everything he could think of,
From basketball to pool to quantum mechanics.
A superiority complex he was on the brink of, 
And, because I need a rhyme, Hispanics.

Even the snootier among us were offended,
For information Barn was not even seekin’.
And his whole superiority shtick was upended
When he whined like a hairsplitting vegan.

But he was to be put to the test,
Concerning his greatness one day,
When at a certain stranger's behest
He was challenged his brains to display.

He one day found himself strolling in the park,
Pondering of things dumb and weird,
And at the colorful flowers he did remark,
When suddenly Satan appeared.

At this he was mildly surprised,
And fought for grasp of even a word.
While Barney’s vanity the devil surmised,
And with that pulled out a chess board.

Barney then relaxed at the sight of something so familiar,
And said, “I see you want to play a game.
I understand, but still find this somewhat peculiar.
You must be at least 13.82 billion years old, but it’s still not the same.”

The devil gave a devilish grin,
Happy that he now had something to do.
“Oh,” he said, “but it would be a sin
If we didn’t at least play a game through?”

Barney thought about this for less than a minute,
Then said with gusto, “Well, what the hell;
But I’m the best here; I expect to win it.
I happen to be an intellect; can’t you tell?”

The horned Henry, stretching his lips beyond his teeth,
Rubbed his hands as if he were making a roll,
Then spoke, “Why don’t something precious you bequeath?
To the victor, why don’t you wager your soul?”

Barney initially was quite alarmed,
For he had never thought much of his soul.
But the demon's persistence had him charmed,
And he decided the demon he would cajole.

“You seem to know exactly what you want from me,
And I'll demand from you nothing less:
I request that you wager all the world’s money,
And maybe then I will play your game of chess.”

The Satan conceded his exorbitance,
Then, after setting down the game,
Said, “Here, I'll write a check to the city ordinance,
And they’ll pay you your due claim.”

And after his deft fingers scrawled his bloody signature,
Across the bland green of his checkbook,
The two chuckled greedily, as was in their nature;
Indeed, such was their outlook.

“I must warn you, though,” said Barney,
Moving his king's pawn to the center.
“I will not take it easy on you; no blarney.
I’m the King of Chess, as told by my mentor.”

“That’s fine,” said the devil, while pieces were moved.
“You may be known as the king, but I'm the Player of Chess.”
With that, the devil made a move that Barn unapproved;
He had moved his bishop right beside a pawn; indeed, a mess.

Shocked, Barney said, “What the hell!
You cracked yourself to be the best among men!
Instead you make a move for which a kid wouldn’t have fell;
Your skills seem worse than those of idiotic men!”

“I can see you know that chess I play rather crappily;
I can’t help it; my opponents are quite few.
But the promise of much money wasn’t the apogee;
If you’ll ignore the piece, riches will come to you.”

Barney considered this, stroking his chin like so,
Realizing he could make a good profit in good time.
Then asked for an amount of money not micro,
Only using that language out of desperation for a rhyme.

The devil, with hellish relish, wrote with might,
And once again, after maybe a move or two,
Placed his queen in the crosshairs of the knight,
And asked if he could tempt Barn with a revalue.

Indeedly so, Barney complied,
Asking for ownership of the pyramids.
The sneaky freak, who never pried,
Didn’t ask; second guessing was a fear of his.

Soon, and soon again, the devil gave away,
He wrote a check for greatness and youth,
The presidency, the Eiffel Tower, and gold his check would pay,
And every woman’s admiration from Honolulu to Timbuktu(th).

As you can most likely tell,
Chess was a game at which the devil did not excel.

But there’s more than one way of playing chess.

At long last, Barney did gasp,
Realizing what a fool he'd been.
The victory of this game he could have grasp,
So concocted a plan was, three-quarters in.

When the baiting Satan asked him again to ignore,
Barney asked something of his purveyor:
“If you don’t mind my ask, since you swore,
I wish to be the best chess player.”

The devil did indeed belch a grumble,
Feeling trite, the outfoxed Reynardo,
Being brought down to a place where he must be humble –
But the devil manipulates us to dance, if I may borrow.

Barney was feeling mighty confident,
Moving with tactical gusto, with beautiful finesse,
Unaware of his wisdom being far from opulent,
For the devil does play chess.

Nearing the end of the devil’s doggerel,
The said sir decided to end the thing,
And with a hollow holler rather audible,
He moved his rook into the king's keep, checkmating.

Barney, for one, was rather appalled,
As the devil said, “It is your own fault you suffer!”
And with a demonic giggle, poor Barney enthralled,
He said, “You can’t beat me at chess – I'm Lucifer!”

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